Kate, William: I'm on my way, kittens

My mother called me this evening to ask if I'd have coffee on at 5 a.m. when she comes over...you know, for that Flip Cam-videoed chapel wedding on some indie cable station. All I could think was, "HOW COULD SHE NOT KNOW THE ROYAL WEDDING AIRS AT 3 A.M.??!"

For the love of the Queen Mum, moth-errrr. Gaw. Of course, there will be coffee. And scones. Warm ones with homemade jam.

(OK, there will be however many Wheat Thins are left in the bottom of the box and the corner of butter that's caked in bagel crumbs.)

Then, because she thinks she is the ultimate smart ass with an extra bonus of hi.lar.ity, she said she was kidding. Or rather, she said, "Oh, I'm just calling to give you shit because you're so into this whole thing." This devastating blow was followed by a muffled comment and laughter, presumably with raised eyebrows or a wink and accompanied by my father, who was in on the joke without ever looking up from his crossword puzzle or Mother Jones magazine.

Betrayal!

"Hey, lady," I said, because it's always proper to address your own matriarch that way when she's fucking with you about important things like a commoner -- beautiful but still, a commoner --  who wore a sheer dress in a fashion show to capture her prince's heart, "you know I will be watching and you know you want to come over and watch it with me."

Silence.

"Admit it."

"Oh, I admit," she fessed up. "I do want to see it. Kind of. I mean, I would if you invited me and really, really, really wanted me to watch it with you. But ummmm, your dad thinks it's dumb."

"YOU ARE INVITED! And he is a man."

The conversation ended there. What more was there to say? These are the truisms of the middle-of-the-night nuptial viewing, like morning coats and child attendants in knickers and turning a Kate into a Catherine. It is, lovelies, what it is.

A tiny "ahem" followed a few seconds later. She will be sorry. For at least twenty minutes until the whole damn thing reruns 47 times in a row on the Oxygen network or similar.

The truth is that I am not at all obsessed with the wedding. But I am paying attention like it's my job. Why? Because it is, in part, my job. While Shine is covering the Royal Wedding extensively to contribute to Yahoo's Royal Wedding site, we discuss every little detail that can be scratched up about it -- from Legos fashioned after the couple to a hunt for the suspected bridal nail polish to Pippa's smokin' hot date -- on our editorial calls every single day. I have to admit, it's kind of tricky to be neutral when I'm reading enough posts about commemorative tea bags to compete with the number of issues of Martha Stewart Weddings and bridal binders I maintained for my own long-ago tulle-and-carriage affair (in case you only know me as a divorced lady, know that = a lot).

Even though my mom will be heading to bed just about the time I watch William catch his first glimpse of Kate, I will be watching. Pheasant feather fascinator bobbing as I sob at the beauty and ridiculousness of the whole damn rich white people fairy tale.

You are totally welcome to join me. Especially if you bring a big box of scones.

Just to prep, here's a clip from my appearance on 7Live, the ABC affiliate in San Francisco, where I was invited to dish about the non-traditional aspects of this classic event.  Lace up your spectator shoes and enjoy.